15. Alessandro

There"s no way to explain why I give in to her quiet demand. After the day we"ve had, it seems like something I can give her that doesn"t require much. Time will tell if this is something she needs in the moment or if she wants it to mean something much deeper.

The way her pussy pulsates and molds around my cock makes it feel like Evelyn's specially made for me. Our kiss slows down my strokes as I"m ready to release myself inside her. The intensity of each pull out of her has my body aching to bury itself back inside. Soft ripples welcome every throbbing inch of my erection until I can"t stand the pleasure. The tension builds to the point that my jaw clenches alongside my release.

When it"s all said and done, I"m ready to finally wash this day off me. Evelyn lies in my bed. The bathroom is where I need to be, turning on the shower and standing under it until the shades of pink running off my body run clear.

There"s a brush to get under my fingernails and a special cleaning solution under the sink that I"ll have to pour down the drain. While we"ve been careful throughout this day, I never want a surprise of DNA evidence soaking into my bathroom floor tiles.

Evelyn steps in the shower behind me, but the apprehension about showing her my scars isn"t lingering like it was a few days ago. Perhaps, her seeing me with the razor in my hand and coming home after I use it assures me that she"s not repulsed by a monster like me.

Still, a part of me steels against her touch as she runs her fingers over the most treacherous memorial to my childhood.

"You don"t have to tell me, Alessandro," she says. "I don"t need to know what"s been healed."

Healed? More like repurposed. I don"t stop her, but a flash of heat sweeps across my face when I hear her soft sniffles behind me. When I turn around to face Evelyn, her eyes are red with tears falling for the boy who survived a night too ugly for me to rehash in the shower.

I pull her in close. "Mio dolce, don"t cry."

"I can"t help it," she murmurs. "You must have been so alone. I don"t know how this happened, but I know in my heart that it shouldn"t have. I"m so sorry, Alessandro."

My eyes immediately shoot to the ceiling because I feel the tears of a young Alessandro spilling down my face as the blood trickled down my body. The blinding pain kept my eyes open, but still, I couldn"t see the man behind me. The man responsible is a shadow in the horrible memory, but only one of us walked away alive. It"s the only way I survived.

Water pours over us and lets our tears blend into the streams washing down the drain. The bond between us shifts from something sexual, one of necessity, to something more. Letting her in this much catches me off guard because I don"t want to trust so easily. Yet, I feel safe in Evelyn"s embrace. For now, I accept that she cares about me and how much I care for her.

After we get out of the shower, we find ourselves lying in bed, staring at the tall ceiling and talking quietly about the day.

"Did you find out how many shooters there were?" she asks, drawing circles with her finger across my chest.

"Three. The one we caught was the runt of the litter. I doubt that we"re going to find the others. If they"re smart, they"d leave town. The mistake I made was assuming Montegna was behind it."

"Oh? Is he not?"

I shake my head gently. "No. I had a drink with him. Had to look him in the eyes to be sure, but there was nothing that told me he had anything to do with the attack at my uncle"s place. Besides, he"s old school, no women and children. I"m not going to completely dismiss his involvement, but he offered me a job."

That gets her to sit up. Her hair falling over the side of her face draws my eyes to her beauty. A lump forms in my throat as she simply sits there with her tits free, and my cock is distracting me for what I want to do with her. Fuck. This is the distraction that I have to put out of my mind.

"You"d really work for Montegna?" There"s concern all over her face.

"He wants me as a lawyer. His words were something along the lines of my marrying you personally and then marrying him professionally makes La Familia even stronger."

"Would you consider letting him put you on retainer instead of working for him exclusively?"

"I don"t think so. I like what I do, picking my own clients, and somehow, I don"t feel like Don Montegna is as lenient if things don"t go his way."

"I doubt that he"d be able to do anything to you about it," she says, leaning down to give me a small kiss before lying back onto my chest.

I keep my thoughts to myself, simply grunting in agreement, running my fingers through her hair. Don Montegna doesn"t want any problems with the Howard Beach Butcher, but that doesn"t keep someone like Evelyn off the chopping block. One thing this life teaches me daily is the people you care about are always the easiest way to get to you. My purpose and goal, especially in this marriage, are to keep her safe. I"ll do whatever it takes to do that, even if it means turning down a lucrative job offer from Don Montegna.

Sleep comes easily, but not for long. A few hours with Evelyn in my bed feels natural, like her place has always been beside me. When I turn onto my side, looking to pull her body even closer, she"s not there. My eyes shoot open immediately, wondering if something"s happened. It takes a second for my sight to adjust. It"s just after two in the morning, and her side of my bed is empty.

I push myself onto my feet, stalking through the hallway, past my closet and into the bathroom. I keep going until I"m in the bedroom I had Lorenzo put together for her. The bed is empty, and my heart thumps against my chest. I walk out of her door and down to Lorenzo"s room.

I knock, but when there"s no answer, I crack the door open to peek inside. He"s not there, and the coldness of the space says he hasn"t been there for hours. Lorenzo has a permanent home here, but he doesn"t exactly live here. There"s a property nearby that he rents for those days that he needs to be alone.

However, the security monitors answer the question that"s gotten me out of bed at two in the morning. Evelyn"s in the kitchen.

I take the stairs down, a pair of pajama pants hanging off my waist, approaching her with curiosity as to why she"s in the kitchen at this time of night. She"s so oblivious to her surroundings that she doesn"t notice me approaching. Her eyes are glued to the mass of dough she"s rolling out on the island countertop.

The closer I get, the more quirks I see with her whispering to herself what she"s doing as she does it.

"Butter, fold, fold, fold, roll." She huffs as she puts some muscle into rolling out the thick slab of dough until it"s flat and repeats the process.

"Mio dolce."

She snaps at the sound of my voice, holding up the rolling pin like a baseball bat. "Shit! Jee-zus. Alessandro, you scared me."

"I"m sorry." I chuckle. "You have to start paying attention. What are doing?"

"Making puff pastry for croissants." The nonchalance in her voice is jarring.

"Is leaving your husband alone in the bed in the middle of the night a part of the recipe?"

She peeks up with a cheeky grin before resuming her process. She talks as she rolls. "I couldn"t sleep. Then you have this amazing kitchen, and no one can hear me when I use it in the middle of the night."

"Was it anything in particular that woke you up?" I ask her. "I know that shootouts aren"t in your typical Sunday plans, and then getting attacked the same day can be a lot. New York, in all of its wonder, can still be a nightmare at times."

A subtle tremor ripples across her shoulders. She shakes her head like she"s trying to stop the overwhelming feeling of fear invading her body. I walk around the counter to approach her from behind. My chest presses against her back, and my arms wrap around her, tight enough to restrict her movements.

"Listen to me, Evelyn. Listen to the sound of my voice. I gave you my word and I have every intention of keeping it. You"re going to be on edge for a while, but just know that you are safe here with me."

The way her chest expands and contracts with the deep breath of relaxation consuming her puts me at ease. "Thank you. I just like to cook or bake when I feel like this, like I have to get this energy out."

"The playroom"s a perfect place to give up some control and release some of that tension if you want some help."

"What would we do?" she asks, turning her face toward me.

"Clean up and meet me downstairs," I tell her with devious ideas floating around my brain. However, I know this is more about releasing tension than sexual gratification. I want her to feel good, safe, okay to fall asleep.

A few minutes later, she comes into the playroom with nothing but my T-shirt on. I smile and move behind the cross, pulling a lever that detaches it from the wall and locks it onto a space in the floor as a table. She approaches me slowly, and I help her out of the shirt and onto the table.

She lies down on her back with her ankles and wrists bound to the table, leaving her naked body on display. My own urges push to the recesses of my mind as I focus on her. Pulling the switchblade from my pocket, I see her eyes light up, but I have no intention of using it.

Instead, I open a drawer in the stand between the armchairs and pull out warming massage oil. I take my time learning her body, starting from her neck, only using my thumbs to rub firm, small circles down to her neck and between her breasts. The smooth, glistening glow of the oil does nothing to stop her nipples from hardening where I simply tweak them, rubbing and pinching them as I caress her.

When my hands travel down her stomach, I take my time rubbing her waist and hips, dipping under her to make sure I rub that tight little ass before moving down to her thighs. I can feel the tension building in her body as I work my way down to her feet.

Every nudge, rub, and roll of my hands over her body draws out a moan of relaxation and release. However, the ultimate release is on its way with my hands massaging the insides of her legs, up to her thighs, and to that beautifully pink pussy that I have to stop myself from tasting.

This isn"t about me.

Time passes as I slide my thumbs inside her folds and around her clit. The softness of this sacred space that invites me to dine makes me hard in the worst way. The longer I take rubbing every square inch of this pussy, the more tension builds until I slip two fingers inside her walls. She cries out in ecstasy as I rub and gently press around her clit. There are so many nerve endings that Evelyn begins to buck as I stroke one of the most powerful orgasms I"ve ever seen come from her.

"That"s right, mio dolce. Give this all to me."

She comes, dripping her release all over my fingers until her legs tremble and her breasts move up and down, desperate to catch her breath. I make her come a few more times before the session ends, and I carry her over to the bed. She falls asleep within minutes, her beauty simply stunning to me.

I lean down, kissing her gently on the forehead and whispering to her, "I love you, Evelyn."